


Just one more drink (you'll regret it in the morning)

by AgingPhangirl (Madophelia)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Drinking, Drunkenness, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Pining, Ridiculous concept honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madophelia/pseuds/AgingPhangirl
Summary: In the morning the bottle is empty and Dan is acting strange.





	Just one more drink (you'll regret it in the morning)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this slightly ridiculous concept came from but I enjoyed writing it

When Phil finds the bottle empty, he doesn't really know what to do. It lingers in his hand, rocking gently back and forth in his palm, mocking him. 

\- 

He doesn't know how he'd lost the group in the market. He has a tendency to wander off and usually Dan is straight behind him so when he turns and no one is to be found well, it's sort of scary for a moment. 

Even more so when a woman emerges from a nearby stall with an almost closed front and beckons him inside with a curled finger. He's scared, but for some reason, he follows her. 

It's kind of hot inside, and there is a thick blanket of incense in the air and it's momentarily difficult to breathe until he gets used to it. He feels the sweat break out on his lower back as she ushers him closer in broken English, pressing the yellow-stained glass bottle into his hand. 

It's spherical at the base, tapering out into a thin neck and then stoppered with the smallest cork Phil has ever seen. He didn't know they made them that small. He glances up at her questioningly and she dips her dark brown eyes in a nod. 

"What is it?" he asks. 

"To realise true love," she says, her accent thick but the words spoken as if dripping with meaning. 

Phil is superstitious, he gets it from his mum, so he doesn't outright reject the notion that the woman just insinuated this was a love potion of some kind but he doesn't fully believe it either. Mostly, he's just awkward and feeling trapped and he wants to leave so he doesn't argue.

"Okay," he says, pulling his wallet from his pocket with the hand not wrapped around the yellow bottle. "How much?" 

The woman smiles and reaches out, covering his hand with hers and squeezing lightly. She's maybe mid-fifties, Phil guesses, but life hasn't been kind. Her fingers are calloused, her hair is bedraggled and clumped together at various points. She appears to be wearing all of the jewelry she owns and it jangles musically as she moves. She shakes her head.

Phil isn't sure what makes him take the bottle, or what could be in it, really, but he does anyway, backing out of the tent-like market stall on stumbling feet. 

He locates them all back at the car and their tour guide notices the bottle straight away. 

"You got taken in by the biggest fraud my friend," he says.

Yiannis is too good looking to be mocking him so mercilessly. It makes Phil's face flush in the heat of the Greek marketplace and he's just glad he's saved the embarrassment of this conversation being overheard as Dan is on the other side of the car, already climbing in to the back seat. He's a little sullen because they don't have mobile signal out here, but mostly he just wants to be away from the crowds. He's had enough for the day. So has Phil. 

"What fraud?"

"This is not a love potion." Yiannis reaches over and taps on the bottle. 

"Oh," Phil nods, flustered by both Yiannis' flirtatious proximity and the insinuation that he's an idiot. "I know. I just thought it was cool looking." 

Yiannis eyes him with a certain kind of disbelief, a smirk on his mouth. He leans closer and winks at Phil. 

"Guys like you don't need love potion anyway I'd wager."

Phil stammers a kind of mumbled self-deprecating response and climbs in to the car, out of the way of Yiannis' heated gaze.

"What's that?" Dan asks as he slides in next to him on the back seat. 

"Oh," Phil says, shoving the bottle in to the backpack at his feet, "Nothing. Just a souvenir." 

-

The bottle is empty. Phil doesn't know how this could have happened except the headache in his temples suggests he could have done something monumentally stupid. 

Dan is asleep on the couch, one foot dangled over the edge and his face smashed into a pillow. There is a tipped over glass by the leg of the coffee table with a small amount of drink still lingering in the curve of it. Phil closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see.

-

"Jus' one more drink," Dan is saying as they stumble in to the house. "I want one more." 

Phil is warm, pleasantly so, and so he doesn't object. He just smiles a glassy-eyed smile and follows Dan to the kitchen. The fridge is still mostly empty because of all the travelling but there is a bottle of vodka lying on the bottom shelf and half a carton of orange juice which could be slightly too sour, but they make do. 

"That's it for a bit," Dan says, dangerously close to dripping orange juice on to the pale grey sofa. Phil winces, but he can't move fast enough through the sloppy-drunk haze to actually prevent it. Luckily, Dan rights his hand just in time to stop it. "No more travelling for at least another two months."

Phil likes it when it's like this. Not a work thing, or YouTube social thing, just him and Dan hanging out like old times. It's probably why he'd agreed so readily when Dan had suggested going for a drink earlier, despite them not really doing anything like that usually. 

"Nope," is all Phil offers, rather than explain just how nice it is to have Dan all to himself. Especially since that is one of those feeling he tries not to have these days.

-

Phil finds it hard to remember the night in a linear sense, it all gets a little fuzzy and presents itself in patches. The bottle is still in his hand, it is still empty, and Dan is beginning to stir on the couch. Phil rolls his shoulder and feels it twinge. 

-

"What the hell are you doing?" 

"The room looks different like this."

"Of course is does, you spork," Dan says, "you're upside down." 

Phil chuckles, his feet swinging madly above the back of the sofa, fringe flopping so that it brushes the floor. It only makes him feel mildly queasy this way up, with the blood rushing to his cheeks, but everything looks strange, just slightly, like it's a different version of it in a different version of their reality. One where Dan gazes at him fondly, exasperatedly, but twists on the couch until he's in the same position.

"It does look different," he confesses. 

"Things tend to," Phil muses, closing his eyes because he's starting to feel dizzy. "If you just look at them in a different way. You could realise something you've never realised before."

Dan hums in response and even though there is a heavy layer of intoxication covering him, Phil thinks he can feel the warm gust of it on his cheek where Dan has turned his face towards him. 

-

"Hey you." Dan blinks up at him. "Fuck, my head hurts."

His brow scrunches and he turns haltingly over onto his back, Phil sees Dan wince too. 

"Morning," Phil says, curving his hand with the bottle behind his back. 

"Fun night huh?" 

"Yeah," Phil agrees, the rim of bottle biting into his palm. "Fun." 

-

The headstand was a mistake. He doesn't really know what possessed him apart from they were vaguely in that position anyway and all it took was a single push off the couch with his lower back and for a brief, wild moment he was balanced on the crown of his head. 

Dan let out a yelp of surprise as it happened and Phil's wrists took the weight of himself for a second before he toppled sideways over onto his shoulder. His legs came down over Dan, who slid sideways, twisting his back in a way that made him laugh, at the time, and they landed in a heap in the small patch of floor between the couch and the coffee table. 

"Fuck," Phil said. 

"You're fucking mad," Dan laughed, extricating his arm from underneath Phil's hip. 

Phil nodded into the floor.

"Come on," Dan said, rolling away. "Up."

"Ugh." Phil responded, rubbing vigorously at his shoulder, trying to soothe some of the ache. 

"Is it bad?" Dan said, reaching out and replacing Phil's rubbing palm with his own. 

"Um," Phil paused as Dan came close, shuffling on his knees, deft blunt fingers kneading into the join between arm and clavicle. He couldn't remember now why it was necessary, only that he didn't really want it to stop. "It's okay." 

"Good," Dan replied, smiling. But he didn't stop.

-

Dan manages to peel himself from the sofa. His hair is all pushed up on one side and for all intents and purposes he looks as rough as Phil feels. It isn't attractive, or, it shouldn't be. But Phil can't help watching as Dan stretches his arms over his head, a strip of pale skin appearing at the bottom of his t-shirt. 

"Are you okay?" Dan asks, looking over at him with a concerned expression. "You look like someone died." 

Phil shakes his head, trying to shrug off the lingering feeling of doom. "Only some of my brain cells," he jokes. There, that seems normal. 

"Yeah," Dan agrees. "So, um, nothing bad happened last night?"

Phil swallows, hard. "No?" he ask, tightening his hand around the bottle and hoping beyond hope that nothing bad truly did. It's stupid, anyway, it's probably all a big hoax. He doesn't know why he's worrying. "Nothing bad. Only good. Fun night." 

He's rambling, he can feel the lie pricking at him. The bottle feels heavy in his hand and he longs to tell Dan that he might possibly have been spiked with a potential love potion but... well that all sounds absurd, and Phil can't _definitely_ remember that is what happened and anyway, Dan is hardly acting any different than usual.

"Okay." Dan's voice is soft, a peculiar lilt to it as he creeps forward. "Good."

He's all the way up into Phil's space before Phil's hungover brain can kick a thought process into gear and realise whats going on. 

Dan looks like he's scared Phil is going to run away, but Phil is having trouble sending that message to his feet, despite trying desperately, so he stands still and lets it happen when Dan kisses him. 

-

It's really fuzzy after that, the vague recollection of an empty vodka bottle rolling across their wooden flooring with a hollow clatter and Dan's head resting on his thigh. 

He remembers gazing down at his face, eyelids closed softly, eyelashing fanning out on his cheeks. Drunk, brave and stupid he almost leaned down to press his lips to the space between his eyebrows. He didn't. 

-

Phil blinks. Dan kissed him. Dan kissed him then brushed past him as if nothing had happened and now there is the clanging of pots in the kitchen that can only signal breakfast is in the works, or at least being thought about. Phil doesn't know what to do with this, he moves the bottle out in front of him, watches morning-pink light from the window reflect through it, throwing a skewed yellow patch onto the wall behind the couch. 

It's nonsense, he reasons. It is. Except the bottle is empty and Dan had kissed him and the two must correlate somewhere. Could it be, is Dan really under the influence of a love potion? 

-

He'd gone to his bedroom for--something. He can't remember. Just like he can't remember when his hair got so messed up, but it is, he can see it in the mirror on the other side of the room. His eyes slide left, over the edge of the mirror and catch sight of the yellow bottle on the dresser. It's been shoved there, behind a plushie and a photo frame but it's there, peeking out from between the two. He hasn't thought about it since Greece but... 

He crosses the room, bumps his shin off the edge of the bed that must have moved, right? It wasn't that far over before. And he picks up the bottle, weighing it in his palm, and he gets a strange and wonderful idea. 

He laughs, in the lonely emptiness of his own room, because why not? It's not like it's real. He can prove it.

-

He has to do something. But he knows what that something is. His head hurts too much for this nonsense but it's undeniable that something is going on with Dan. If it isn't the love potion... no, its definitely the love potion. Even if it is ridiculous, it's the only explanation.

He pads across to the kitchen, catches sight of Dan, hair still adorably roughed up on the one side, staring into the empty fridge. 

"No food," he says. He sounds despondent. 

"No," Phil says, flashing back to the night before and the solitary vodka bottle on the bottom shelf. "We've been away." 

Dan sighs and shuts the fridge door. "Well I don't feel like going out."

Phil shrugs, "me either." 

Dan shuffles over to him, feet dragging on the tiled floor in his socks. He has the sleeves of his jumper pulled down low over his hands and he looks so adorable Phil can't help but wrap him up in his arms as Dan comes to drop his head on to Phil's shoulder. He lets a flat palm smooth down Dan's back and revels in Dan relaxing into the touch. It's wrong, he shouldn't be indulging the effects of this thing but Dan feels warm and good, and he fits just right there into the space between his hands and he has a hard time letting go, but he does. 

"I need to tell you something," he mumbles. 

"Don't ruin it," Dan says, his voice low but all in a rush, like it's a fear that's been working its way up but he's trying hard to keep it down. "Not yet, please." 

He tucks his head back against Phil's chest and urges him to put his arms back around him. Dan sighs and Phil feels it vibrate through him and land like a stone in his chest..

He wonders when on earth everything got this complicated. Why getting everything he's wanted for so long feels hollow and sour. What he has to do next, is all his fault. 

-

Phil doesn't have to try too hard because Dan holds out his glass as Phil comes back into the room. Phil wonders why for a moment before pulling the tiny cork from the bottle with his teeth. He propels it across the room and watches it sail through the air, coming to land somewhere in the vicinity of the TV. 

"One more," Dan nods and Phil pours it into his glass. "Just one more."

-

"You don't mean any of this," Phil says into the top of Dan's head. 

He feels the sigh in Dan's shoulders and the heat of it through his shirt where Dan's breath collects on his chest. 

"Because of course you know exactly what I mean and what I don't. If you don't want this Phil, just say so." 

"It's not that," Phil insists, realising too late that that shows more of his hand than he'd like. 

"Then what?" Dan speaks the words into Phil's t-shirt and doesn't bother lifting his head. It's making this whole thing a lot harder than it should be to have him so close. 

"You'll laugh." 

"I won't." 

It's Phil's turn to sigh, easing Dan away from him again so that he can get some breathing room. "You will. Believe me, I know it sounds crazy but…" 

"Spit it out, Phil." 

Dan huffs and turns to lean against the counter, flicking at the end of one fingernail and splitting his gaze between it and Phil. He's nervous. Phil wonders what it is he has to be nervous about. 

"IthinkIgaveyoualovepotion." He trips, stumbles over the words, runs them together so he doesn't have to stop for breath between each of them. 

Dan looks up at him then, cocks an eyebrow and, predictably, laughs so loud it fills the room. 

-

"Stay," Dan is saying, rosy cheeked and glassy eyes and sprawled on their couch. Phil can't get him much further, it's not like he could carry him down to his room so here it is. At least he isn't on the floor. 

"I'm not staying here," Phil is saying. Somewhere, deep in his brain, a tiny voice is telling him to take his chance. He ignores it.

"Then let me come with you." 

Even late night, just after the incident, Phil can't allow himself to enjoy the turn of events. 

"No," Phil whispers fondly, "You stay here. Goodnight Dan."

-

"You... " Dan is laughing so hard he can't get his words out, he's doubled over, messy hair falling in his face and Phil is adrift in the middle of their tiled kitchen floor. "You actually... Oh my god you're serious." 

"Don't," Phil says, "Don't. I'm not… I know it's weird. It sounds crazy but… Dan, how else do you explain this?" he gestures wildly between them, hand flailing in perfect mimicry of how his insides feel. 

"Phil… this is just… it's… well fuck, I don't know. I thought…" Dan shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair and shrugs.

He's fixed where his hair was roughed up and he instantly looks more awake and put together than Phil feels. 

He hears Dan suck in a breath.

"Say I believe you--"

"It's true... " Phil insists, cutting him off. "I know it's awful and I shouldn't have… we were drunk and I…" he sighs, "I just wanted… I don't know. It doesn't matter. It was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Say." Dan states, louder, ignoring anything Phil is saying. "Say I believe you. When exactly did this happen, where the hell did you get a love potion?"

Phil beckons him with a pointed finger, and finds it easier than he thought he would to turn and leave the kitchen area. 

He makes it back to the coffee table before he has to look at Dan, picks up the yellow bottle and holds it out in offering. It's cool against his skin, chilled by the morning. 

"I got it in Greece," he says as he passes the bottle into Dan's warm hand. Their fingers brush on the transfer and Phil lets himself linger in it for a second. "Some crazy woman said it would bring me love. Yiannis said it wasn't… but look. I mean... " 

Dan is turning the bottle over in his hand, letting it roll on his palm. The corner of his mouth crooks upward. 

"I drank this last night." 

"Yes. I gave it to you… I'm sorry." 

"Oh Phil…" Dan shuffles forward, dragging his socked feet against their wooden flooring. He reaches where Phil is stood, in the narrow space between the couch and where the coffee table had been pulled up close to it. He bends down, places the bottle back onto the surface with a click. 

Phil watches it all happen. 

"Don't you remember at all?" Dan asks. 

"I remember giving you that," Phil insists. "I remember… I know I did it. I wanted…" 

"Phil," Dan stops him, places a hand flat against his chest, over the thud thud thud of his beating heart. It's speed only exacerbated by his proximity. "Just stay still." 

Dan tips forward on his feet, catching Phil off guard. He should stop this, he should reach up a hand, an arm, pull away, create some kind of barrier between them but he doesn't. He stand there, in the tiny space next to his couch, and let's Dan kiss him. 

His mouth it plush, wet and warm and wonderful. It only takes a few seconds for the sensation to spark something in his memory. 

-

He's warm. The curve of Dan's waist sitting perfectly under his palm, heated skin against skin where his shirt has rucked up. 

There is kissing. He head spins with vodka and the scent of Dan's aftershave. Musky and familiar. They're crammed against the foot of the couch, and Phil's knee is digging into the hard surface of their floor and his right wrist aches from taking his weight. He doesn't feel any of it. 

He's thick with drink. Head swimming, fuzzy and lopsided but he's focussed in minutely on the feeling of Dan's mouth against his. He's swept along with it, the soft brush of lips, the tip of a tongue along the seam of his mouth. It's wonderful, and warm, and the heat is rising in his cheeks. Breath from his nose creating humidity between them but he can't stop, he can't pull away or all of this will be over. The spell will be broken. It could be temporary and he needs to get as much of it as he can before it's over. 

-

Dan pulls away. 

"I… you…" Phil shakes his head, "I kissed you. Last night. We…"

Dan nods. 

"But doesn't that prove my theory?" Phil asks, "Doesn't all of this just show you how strange all of this is?" 

"I admit it's strange." 

"Then we need to find a way to break it," Phil says, "An antidote or something."

"Phil, think. When did you give me the 'love potion'." 

Phil thinks. The kissing was… when they were on the floor. And he'd gone to his bedroom to pick up the bottle… something. It's all in bits and pieces, he doesn't know which way round things happened. 

He remembers being on the floor, Dan's head resting on his thigh. He remembers the empty vodka bottle rolling away from him across the floor and looking down and wanting to kiss him. 

Then the bedroom. Or was that before? 

But if the bottle was empty, if the vodka bottle was empty when it rolled away then… 

"The kiss happened before." 

Dan nods. "We were drunk. I started it, I think. Or maybe you did, I don't know. But we were kissing and I didn't… then you got up and went to your bedroom. I thought you were leaving but you came back." 

"And I had the bottle." 

"You had the bottle."

-

"This isn't real," Dan whispers into the space between them. "I wish it could always be like this." 

"It can," Phil says, jumping up. "We can make it… Dan. Stay here." 

Dan's brow furrows slightly but Phil isn't there to see it. 

When he gets back, he holds the bottle out in front of him as if it's all supposed to make sense, even though it doesn't. This will make it stay this way, it will mean that it won't wear off in the morning, Dan will kiss him forever and Phil can keep him. Just like this. Just for a little bit longer. 

"Just one more," Dan is saying. 

"Yes," Phil says, "Just one more." This can last for one more drink.

-

"What was it?" Phil asks, "In the bottle?" 

"Liquor," Dan responds quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking, "Ouzo if I had to guess. It being Greece and all."

"So… not a love potion?"

"That depends," Dan shrugs. 

"On what?" 

"On whether it worked I guess."

"Dan…" Phil breathes his name into the air, taking half an unsure step forwards. 

"Phil, I…" 

"Did it work?" Phil reaches out, pulls him close, the warm weight of him along his front, "Do you…?"

"It didn't work." Dan says, but his hands come up, fingers curving around Phil's arm, squeezing so that Phil can't get away.

Not that he wants to. 

"I don't…"

"It didn't work. Because… well, firstly because love potions aren't a thing you spork." He grins, the dimple in his cheek dipping in, Phil raises a thumb to press at it. 

Maybe he's still drunk. But Dan's skin is warm, and softer than Phil would have imagined. His head is swimming, and pounding. His heart is beating and he doesn't know what happens next. 

"Secondly, even if it was possible to give someone a love potion to make them fall in love with you, it would never work on me, not when it comes to you." Dan sighs, winding himself closer, tipping his head and bringing their faces inches apart. "I've been in love with you since I can remember. I don't need a potion for that." 

"Are you sure this isn't magic?" Phil asks, smiling and holding Dan's jaw and cheek in his hand. "It feels like magic." 

"It isn't magic," Dan says, and kisses him. 

Maybe it isn't magic, maybe it's just them and love potions aren't real. Maybe they just got drunk one night and kissed, maybe they drank some dodgy ouzo that Phil bought from a market in Greece. Maybe it just took a stupid misunderstanding for them to finally face up to something they've both been hiding. 

_To realise true love…_

"I love you too," Phil says as they part. And it feels like magic nonetheless.


End file.
